


With You, At The End Of It All

by Narlth



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arranged Marriage, Bottom Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), M/M, Minor Character Death, soul mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-03 20:26:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8728930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narlth/pseuds/Narlth
Summary: After the civil war, population decimated, Uther Pendragon, ruler of Albion decides the only way to ensure his kingdom's survival is to implement DNA matching. Thus ensuring all couples have the best chance to foster Merlin, newly turned eighteen and member of one of the last magical communities hiding from persecution, is more than a little overwhelmed when his results match him with none other than Albion's heir, Arthur Pendragon. Not unexpectedly Things don't get off to the best start, but perhaps destiny has something more in store.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [schweet_heart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/schweet_heart/gifts).



> Your first prompt completely struct a cord with me, and although I know nothing about the Scarlet Pimpernel nor the Book of Ivy, I think managed to wrestle out a sensible plot. I also tried to incorporate a few of your other likes to varying degrees of success. And I hope you enjoy it nonetheless <3
> 
> Special thanks to M for beta'ing <3

Magic licks against exposed skin, tendrils glowing bright, almost blinding in the darkness that cloaks the room. They’re warm where they make contact, and though they don’t burn, the threat is there nonetheless.

It was never meant to come to this.

It should have been easy, his magic more than enough to overcome whatever hinderance might be posed.

Fate, after all had smiled on him, matching them together like this.

An opportunity like this would never again present itself to the cause, and to pass it up seemed like the ultimate betrayal.

But stood here, now, looking into eyes owned by one he had slowly grown to care for, he realised that maybe what he had been told his whole life, was not actually what destiny intended at all.

~

For as long as Merlin could remember, the DNA test had been the only method of matching prospective couples. The concept of actually courting someone is so foreign and far removed, that it didn’t even register as a viable method for finding a life partner.

The test had always been there.

And so that’s how Merlin finds himself queued up outside the school nurse’s office with the rest of his year, waiting for his name to be called. All around him everyone else is chatting; voicing their preferences for the test results.

Everyone but Merlin. He remained silent, lost in his own mind.

He honestly has no idea what he would prefer, to be matched straight away, or not. For his record to sit on some database for years and years, maybe _forever_ if a suitable match was never found.

On one hand, if he was matched, then he would spend the rest of his life keeping his magic hidden, all but trapped with someone who was supposedly his genetic equal, but whose personality could be anything under the sun.

The next student is called in, and as the queue shuffles along, Merlin bites at his bottom lip, his nerves trying to overcome him.

He knows if he were to be matched, then he would be the one displaced, there would be no way his home on the outskirts of the city would be considered suitable. Especially given the type of people that share the space, people that under Uther Pendragon’s current administration would be considered outlaws, that even if his match were also a resident of the poorer side of society, they would be guaranteed to be moved to somewhere built for the sole purpose of housing the newly matched, intended to promote a successful relationship.

Merlin could admit, even just privately to himself, that the prospect of getting to move somewhere where he would never have to worry about the heating going out, or whether there would be enough rations to go around, is something to look forward to.

Morgause would slap him one if she knew the directions his thoughts are going, but he couldn’t help it. He moves up another spot, shirt fabric pulling against the rough paint of the wall behind him.

There are only about ten more students in line before Merlin reaches the front, he notices as his fellow peers got closer, their chatter starts to die down, excited speculation becoming muttered half-comments.

Perhaps he isn’t the only one worried over what their result might be.

~

For the whole of his memorable life, Merlin had lived on the outskirts, amongst the same people.

He had heard to story of how he ended in their care multiple times, that he had been left as a baby outside of Alice’s clinic one evening, wrapped in a deep blue blanket, no other identifying objects but for a small wooden carving of a dragon with the words _for Merlin_ encarved on the underside.

Whoever had left Merlin had clearly known what they were doing, dropping him off on a day when Alice would be the last one to leave the office. Alice, who, though only in possession of the smallest trace of magic herself, lived with probably one of the last communities of magic users remaining in all of Albion.

Even before she had known of Merlin’s powers, Alice had taken in him in, tucking him close to her body and carrying him the whole way home.

The other adults had supposedly been less than impressed by Alice’s choice, though it was not something they would ever consider admitting to, now they knew who and what Merlin was, but there were always rumours, snide glances and glares from those that held resentment.

But though Alice was a kindly woman, she could also be unbearably stubborn when pressed, and from the moment she had lain eyes on Merlin’s tiny form, she had felt something stir in her. 

Not just the parental urge, as many would dismiss it, but a something that tugged at her magic, that told her she needed to do all she could to take care of this child who had found their way into her life.

Of course it didn’t take long for Merlin’s powers to become evident. Less than a week in fact. 

Living in the home Alice shared with a few other residents, the moment Merlin used magic to float his blanket over to himself one morning, was not only witnessed, but also felt by some of those that still believed in the old legends. Ones that foretold the coming of a light, in the form of two people joined unbreakably by destiny’s threads during the world’s darkest hours.

The first, the Once and Future King, to lead the populace from out of the shadow. The second, Emrys, who would guide the King as his light in the darkness of the world. Both parties sworn to protect each other.

People’s opinions had changed after that, forever influenced by words spoken long before his time.

~

Merlin remains in shock the whole way home, not registering the world as it carries on around him, people’s voices fading into the background, like a dull but constant buzzing, as if he’s frozen whilst the rest of the world continues to turn without him.

He feels detached, like he’s floating somewhere up in the air, no longer really in control of this life, his body, his mind.

Someone brushes past him. The contact feels sharp, and Merlin shies away, folding further in on himself.

He is glad in that moment that everyone that has been matched is being allowed home early, Merlin doesn’t think he could have managed to endure a whole day acting like everything is fine with this hanging over his head.

Amongst the others that had also received the news that he had been matched there was a feeling of nervous excitement, a feeling Merlin wishes he could join in with.  
Instead he found himself leaning against a wall, alone, with his head bowed.

Eyes flicking side to side, he searches for a break in the crowd of students. He wants to be away as fast as possible before anyone takes it into their heads to either ask about his match or even just how he was.

Seizing his opportunity, Merlin presses forwards, footsteps hurrying him along to such an extent that he almost sends himself flying. It’s only by some sort of miracle that he doesn’t end up on the floor, instead he stumbles almost colliding with a fence. Shooting a look over his shoulder in the hopes that no one had notices his almost mishap.

~

Black shoes devour the grey carpet below them, their purposeful stride unbroken as Arthur heads towards his destination. His shoulders are a tense line, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, and brows creased in the centre.

Reaching the final door, Arthur pauses, straightening his tie and brushing his fringe back into some semblance of order.

Composed, Arthur knocks twice on the door, before opening it without waiting for an invitation.

“Arthur.” Uther greets without even a glance upwards.

“Father.” Arthur greets in return. Neither of them have ever been ones to engage in small talk, especially when it’s clear they are there for business.

There are two empty seats in front of Uther’s desk, Arthur sits in neither of them, choosing instead to focus his attention on one of the few photographs that decorate the walls of the office. It’s one of their whole family, an eleven year old Morgana, hair covering half her face, next to a ten year old version of himself, whose cheeks are pink from the cold weather. Behind them both is Uther, expression relaxed in a manner that he rarely sees these days.

It’s the same picture that Arthur has on the mantelpiece back at his place. It’s one of the few in which they are all present and actually genuinely happy.

The silence between them stretches for a long time. It’s some sort of power game between them, the intricacies much too complicated to explain, but with the aim to make the other speak first.

“I presume you’re here about your match.” It’s not a question, Uther knowing Arthur too well to be in any doubt about why his son is there.

“You promised, that I would get more time.” If he were talking to anyone other than his father, Arthur would have used his trademark glare, but as it is, he knows that that would be the worst move he could make.

“I am aware of that,” Uther answers, not looking up from what he’s reading. “However, the circumstances have changed.” 

Arthur exhales a loud sigh, at which point Uther does look up, one eyebrow raised.

“Your match is a resident in, let’s just call it one of the more unsavoury areas of the city.” Finally Arthur had all of his father’s attention. “It would prove dangerous for him to remain where he is, even for a few more months as we had originally agreed. Even more so if anyone finds out you’re his match.”

The longer his father speaks, the more Arthur’s imagination runs wild, trying to picture his match.

“As you know we will be sending a couple of guards down to fetch him in a week. After that you will both move in together.”

“But father-“

“I shall accept no negotiation on this, Arthur. You are not entitled to any special treatment just because you are my son.”

Arthur would have scowled, but instead he settles for crossing his arms over his chest. He’s glad he’s standing rather than sitting. For all the confidence he gains by being on a higher level, it could never amount to enough when it comes to his father.

Knowing the battle has already been lost, Arthur has no other choice but to accept his father’s decision. 

“Of course, father.” He nods decisively as he answers. There is nothing else that Arthur wants to say. So disappointed at the outcome, though not, if he’s being honest with himself, is he surprised.

With one last glance at the photo, Arthur turns, he’s halfway back down the corridor before he deflates, acceptance written in the lines of his body.

~

“Arthur Pendragon.”

Merlin could only nod, still completely numb.

“As in Uther Pendragon’s son Arthur?”

“Yes.” Merlin drops his eyes, holding his letter out at arm’s length, using it as a means to take attention away from himself.

A few seconds later, cool air curls around Merlin’s fingers as someone snatches the paper away.

“This is amazing, Merlin!” Alvarr, slung one arm around Merlin’s shoulders, dragging the eighteen year old in close so he could ruffle his hair. “In my wildest dreams I could never have orchestrated something so perfect.”

Face pressed into Alvarr’s chest, Merlin could only nod, least he end up with a mouth full of fabric.

A hand clamps around Merlin’s wrist, giving a sharp tug.

Freed from Alvarr’s - for lack of a better word - hug, Merlin is spun around to face Morgause.

The blonde sorcerer had a genuinely happy smile on her face, an expression that rarely found a home there.

“How’s my favourite sorcerer doing?” She releases her vice-like grip on his wrist, instead taking a more friendly, almost companionable hold on his upper arms.

Blinking slowly, Merlin hides his discomfort behind a confused exterior. “I’m alright,” he shrugs, eyes falling to the left. “Just trying to process everything.”

“I bet you are. It’s a shame they only give you a week, but we’ll be able to make it work.”

“Make what work?” This time his confusion is real, one eyebrow lifted, and head tilted ever so slightly.

“Our plan to capture Uther Pendragon’s son, of course.”

Merlin huffs a breathy laugh before he registers the look on Morgause’s face.

“Wait, you’re being serious, aren’t you?”

Gentle fingers take ahold of his chin, thumb brushing against the smooth skin there. Their eyes meet, and Merlin has to fight hard not to flinch away.

“Oh Merlin, you should know by now.” Her mouth twists upwards, “I’m always serious.”

She presses her thumb against his closed lips for a second, using them as a lever to push Merlin further away from her.

“But don’t worry. We won’t send you in unprepared.”

~

Arthur gives a grateful sigh as he sips at his coffee, enjoying the heat as it burns down his throat. 

On the other side of the table, Morgana cradles her hands around the cup, but she does not drink. 

They sit, both silent and content for the break in their normally hectic lives.

Being two years older, Morgana had been matched with her partner since she had taken her own test not four years ago; and whilst she and her partner, who turned out to be none other that Gwen from human resources, someone to whom she was already extremely close, she understood perfectly well that no everyone was so lucky.

It could not have turned out better for her.

But knowing her brother as she did, she could hardly picture him tied down to a stranger, compliant to Uther’s ideals.

This is true especially after the past couple of years, as Arthur had started to question some of Uther’s decisions more and more. Not to their father’s face of course, not after the first time…

“So,” Morgana places her mug back down on its saucer, “what do you know about them?”

Arthur doesn’t respond for a long while, taking another drink from his coffee, until finally: 

“What makes you think I know anything?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Arthur. You and I both know that Uther will have already done extensive research, and that you will have confronted him about why you haven’t been allowed more time.” 

Putting his mug down, Arthur levels Morgana with a look.

“If you know so much already, why don’t you just tell me what you think about it all.”

“Now, now. That would be too easy for you.” She smirks at his expression.

“I hate you sometimes, you know that?” Morgana’s smirk simply grows at his words. “I know he’s currently living in one of the rougher areas of Camelot, right on the city's outskirts, abandoned as a child, he was adopted by the owner of a local clinic. Average grades, no remarkable skills or talents. By all accounts he’s just an ordinary citizen.”

“What is it that has you stressed out then? Worried that you’ll both end up hating each other, and spend the entire rest of yours lives unhappy?” 

Morgana had clearly been intending just to tease him, but that was just it, wasn’t it? How could he, Arthur Pendragon, Uther Pendragon’s son, and Albion’s heir ever hope to express the fact that he was simply worried about not getting along with this Merlin.

Rather than admitting the truth he says:

“I just don’t want to be saddled with some witless child.”

Morgana rolls her eyes, his deflection successful.

“I should have guessed.”

~

They huddle Merlin through the door, barely giving him a minute to try and take in the opulent surroundings he now found himself in. 

His anxiety from that morning returns with a vengeance, the chauffeur's hands on him burning even through his clothes. 

Merlin ducks his chin as he attempts to shuffle out of the hallway into a much smaller room. 

Since the car had arrived to pick him up two days ago, Merlin had found himself being ferried around from pillar to post as he was poked and prodded beyond what anyone could possibly consider comfortable.

Apparently Uther had required a full and complete screening of Merlin’s health, certain aspects to be passed before he would even be allowed near Arthur. 

He had passed, it seemed, not that he would have expected not to, but there was something at least mildly gratify to be able to say he was a good health.

This new room is decorated in a much more modest fashion then anywhere he had been so far, but even so he still found his eyes roving around the room, taking note of all the small things which when combined just screamed of money.

He shakes his head sharply directing his thoughts back to the present, there are more important things to be thinking about, then the decor of somewhere he may never see again.

Shoulders slumping, Merlin spins on his heel, eyeing the black leather sofa. It doesn’t exactly look comfortable, but seating seem like a good idea right now.

He cringed as the fabric squeaked under his weight, and he finds himself sitting stiffly, wanting to avoid making any more unnecessary noise. 

Merlin clenches his fist where it rests on his bouncing knee. Pressing down, he tries to halt the erratic movement.

He is about to meet the son of the man who would sooner see him dead than tell him the time of day, and while at another time he be completely petrified, now the only thing on Merlin’s mind right now is the desire to have Arthur like him.

At some point in the time between Merlin discovering who his perfect genetic match is, and now, Merlin has accepted that his life was going to change, and that he needs to make the best out of it.

The day before, some unnamed man had arrived at the room Merlin had been staying in, and taken his measurements despite Merlin’s best attempts to stop him. He had even gone as far as to sit on the floor, legs crossed, refusing to move. In the end the tailor had had to call in one of Merlin’s handlers, the tall man with shoulders about twice the width of Merlin’s own.

Percy, as Merlin had later found out that guard was named, had held Merlin upright, his back pressed firmly against a warm chest.

Held in place whilst the tailor finished with his job, Merlin had fought against the blush that coloured his cheeks as his inseam was taken.

No one had ever touched him with any kind of care, somewhere even as simple as the inside of his thigh.

Percy held Merlin in place for a short moment after the tailor had left, though his hold lost most of his strength.

“I know you’re scared.” Merlin’s eyes had widened, his heart had almost skipped a beat. “I would be too, but Arthur’s a good man.”

Merlin had hummed, allowing himself to sink back into Percival’s hold.

“Thank you.”

Stress had been wearing at Merlin since the moment he had opened that letter, and he had not had a moment to just let go. Until now.

Eyes closing for just a moment, he had inhaled a slow breath, concentrating on the steady beating of his heart, and the warmth pressing against his back, before Merlin had shifted his weight off of Percy, allowing the guard to move away.

Now he is wearing the product of that day, a well fitted dark blue suit - a colour that apparently brought out his eyes, -along with a crisp white shirt, and black tie. Merlin had never worn clothes of such an expensive style or quality before, and while he could admit wearing them did give him a certain feeling of confidence, at the same time he couldn’t help but notice how over the top the entire thing seems.

Abandoning his leg as a hopeless case, Merlin takes a sip from the water that Mithian, his other guard, brought up for him.

He concentrates on swirling the cool liquid around his mouth, the temperature almost soothing, before he hears footsteps outside.

~

After his conversation with his father about his match, Arthur had only come to expect the worst, so when the door was opens, and he gets his first sight of _Merlin_ he does a literal double take.

Merlin rises from his seat the moment Arthur had enters - either from some sort of ingrained lesson in politeness, or simply from surprise, but the action allows Arthur a full view of him.

He is skinny, almost painfully so, the close fitting suit doing absolutely nothing to hide that fact. Though he knows Merlin is eighteen, with his large blue eyes, and soft off-black hair he could easily pass as a lot younger.

The words Arthur had been planning to say the moment he meets his match suddenly flee. Finding that they don’t apply now he has actually seen Merlin, intended as they had been for a hardened, and jaded petty criminal, rather than a literal kid.

“I’m Arthur, nice to meet you, Merlin.” He pulls one of his hands out of his pocket, holding it out for Merlin to shake.

When Merlin fails to take it, Arthur almost drops his hand, but the moment before he does, fingers, cool despite the heated room, grasp his hand, halting the retraction.

“Nice to meet you too.” Despite the way he looks, Merlin’s voice is surprisingly deep with just a small touch of an accent, one hidden and long buried by time. 

“How was your journey over?” He needs to make a good impression while the guards hired by his father are nearby, likely within hearing distance. Luckily small talk is something Arthur is well versed in making.

They draw apart, Merlin sitting back down in the same spot, and Arthur sits to the left and in front.

“It was…” Merlin’s tongue flicks out, in thought, “strange, I guess? I’ve never been this far into the city before.”

Eyebrow quirking, Arthur has to stifle his initial reaction of incredulity, never before having met anyone with such limited travel experience

“I suppose the area you’re from must feel like the countryside, or as much as anywhere can, these days.”

“Don’t be so supercilious about it. It can be a very beautiful area.”

So Merlin has a bit of fire in him, that is good. He’d never want to be saddled with someone meek and wilting. It’s also nice, Arthur thinks, to be around someone who isn’t star struck by the thought of who his father is - of who Arthur is or will eventually be.

“I’m sure it is. If you’re into that sort of thing.”

A creases appears between Merlin’s eyes, the boy clearly about to retort with some, likely scathing, comment, when a knock sounded at the door, cutting him off.

“If you’re ready, sir. We should make a move.”

“Of course.” Arthur doesn’t look over his shoulder, able to recognise Mithian’s voice anywhere. Instead he watches as Merlin’s eyes track over his shoulder, dark lashes flickering.

Arthur’s almost tempted to comment on what appears to be an apprehensive gesture, but then he remembers where it is that Merlin grew up and stops himself.

He pushes himself up, unbuttoning his jacket as he does so, and waits for Merlin to join him.

“Time to show you where we shall be living.”


	2. Chapter 2

From the moment Uther had given him his house, Arthur had known that one day he would be sharing it with someone else – a complete stranger.

There’s one master bedroom, which Arthur has been using, along with a spare room, mostly undecorated, and previously only used by visiting guests. He supposes that while he and Merlin got to know each other they’ll been sleeping separately.

Arthur pushes open the car door, squashing a shiver as the winter air hits him. Not sparing even a glance behind him, he fishes his keys out of this pocket, fumbling them for only a small moment before he slots them into the lock.

Arthur steps inside, giving his feet only a cursory wipe on the welcome mat. He’s half out of his jacket when a bang has him start, head snapping around only to find Merlin, a bright blush covering his cheeks and ears, the front door, rattling a little in it’s frame.

“Sorry.” Merlin mutters as he takes a gentle grip of the door handle. 

Looking at Merlin now, Arthur spots the strap of a blue rucksack where it hangs off of Merlin’s shoulder, and he remembers that those that are displaced in the matching process are permitted only to take one bag’s worth of belongings with them. He’s not entirely familiar with the hows and whys of the rule, but figures it must be something to do with security - most thing are these days.

Slipping from his thoughts, Arthur wonders what Merlin has brought with him. The question forms on the tip of his tongue before he’s even thought about it. Luckily he has enough presence of mind not to actually voice it. It seems like an invasion of privacy when they barely know two things about each other.

Looking away sharply in the hopes that he hasn’t been caught staring, Arthur instead says:

“Clothes in your size were delivered this morning. They’re in a bag in the lounge.”

He receives a wide eyed stare in return. Arthur mentally rolls his eyes. It figures that Merlin wouldn’t have thought that far ahead.

“There’s food in the kitchen should you get hungry.”

Arthur doesn’t wait for a reply, dismissing Merlin for now to let him explore the house on his own. He heads to his office, intent on getting caught up on some documentation he would need for the following week at work.

~

Alone, Merlin latches onto the idea of food - his hunger which had been chased away by nerves is suddenly back with a vengeance. His fingers flutter at the strap of his bag, the worn fabric soft under the pads of his fingers.

The stairs are just a few feet away and Merlin’s almost tempted to ascend, to look for his- ah, their room, but knowing Arthur’s up there, Merlin can’t summon the courage to follow and risk running into him. 

Instead he allows his rucksack to slip from his shoulder, catching it just at the last moment. Somewhere outside he hears a car door slam shut as Mithian and Percy leave to take up what would become their regular positions.

Toeing off his shoes, Merlin leaves his bag next to them. He’ll figure out where to put everything later.

The cream carpet is plush, the soft texture evident even through Merlin’s socks, and he pauses just a moment to enjoy the feeling.

Walking forwards, Merlin runs his hands over the pale painted walls. There aren’t many personal items, no decorations in the hallway, and as he reaches the kitchen at the end he is met with more of the same decorating style.

The countertops are made of a black marble, imperfects in the stone catching the light and shining like stars. The floor is linoleum, styled to look like flag stones, but with the benefit of not being nearly as cold, even in the winter.

All of the shelves, cupboards and drawers are made from the same plastic that somehow manages to look expensive even given the simplicity of its use, with polished silver handles and brackets.

Peeking inside a couple of cupboards, Merlin sees that everything is put away in exact homes, right down the the way the dishes have been stacked to dry next to the sink. Merlin’s almost impressed at the level of care. _Almost._

Not wanting to disturb the order, but twitching as his stomach chooses that exact moment to grumble at him, Merlin grabs the nearby kettle, filling it up with just the exact amount of water for a cup of tea. Better to get something in him, even if just liquid to quiet his stomach whilst he finds something more substantial.

The water boils as Merlin sticks his head in the fridge, not surprised to find it full of all kinds of fresh foods. Arthur strikes him as the sort of person who tries to always eat healthily, preparing his own meals and all that.

Spotting a block of cheese, Merlin brings it, and the loaf of bread he spied earlier, over to the counter just as the kettle clicks off.

He makes himself a cup of tea, along with a cheese sandwich. Glancing at the small table in the corner of the kitchen, Merlin decides he’d rather not sit there, and goes to find the lounge instead.

It’s in there that he finally finds the first bit of personality.

~

They spend the entire rest of the day apart, and it’s only as the sky is starting to darken outside the windows that Arthur finally emerges.

Merlin startles at the sound of the door opening behind him. He spins on the spot, his blue eyes wide as he finds the intruder, the shirt he had been investigating from the bundle of clothes with which he had been supplied, falling from his fingers.

Arthur's changed since they arrived home. Now out of the suit, he looks less severe and aloof – more approachable, like the person Percival alluded to.

“Hi,” Merlin says, squashing the sudden urge he feels to wave, not wanting to appear like a fool.

Neither of them move for a long moment, simply taking each other in, now that they no longer have an audience.

It’s Arthur who eventually breaks the stalemate.

“Are the clothes any good?” He steps around the chair that stands between him and Merlin, gesturing at the shirt Merlin has retrieved from the floor.

Sliding his fingers along the bottom seam of the shirt, Merlin takes a moment.

“They’re not really my style.”

“We’ll get you replacements, then.”

Lips parting in shock, and fingers clenching into soft fabric, Merlin stutters over his next words, unable to comprehend that anyone would offer to get rid of perfectly adequate clothes.

“That’s- it’s really not necessary. There’s nothing actually wrong with them.”

“That may be so, Merlin, but people are going to start taking an interest in you now, and I can’t have you wearing anything subpar.”

Arthur drops backwards onto the sofa, sinking into the cushions. “You’ll have to wear those for now, though, but that’s alright as we’ll be left alone until after the wedding.”

At the reminder of their upcoming wedding, a weight settles over the room, pressing down on them both.

Dropping his gaze, Merlin crosses the room, lowering himself carefully onto the opposite end of the sofa.

“This is mad.” The words slip out before Merlin can stop them, and as Arthur stiffens besides him, Merlin forces himself not to look, worried that he’s crossed one boundary too far.

“It is.”

Eyes flying open, Merlin jerks his head around.

“But it’s the way we’ve always done it, at least since the war.”

Merlin nods mutely, already fully aware of the how for’s and why’s for the need to make perfect matches. The population, after the war had finally ceased, had been left a mere ten percent of its pre-war size, especially with young people being hit the hardest as they were conscripted to either side.

Now, those that remained within Albion found themselves paired off, all for the good of the population.

The silence between them descends once again, however the air of uncomfortability it held previously is gone, replaced with something closer to understanding.

~

Merlin wakes up late the following day, the soft sheets and warm room a lure too hard to resist. 

Rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes, he takes a moment to just lie there, eyes on the white painted ceiling.

He feels the buzz of his magic under his skin, the warm spark of it nudging at his fingertips, wanting to be used after a fortnight of in action. Grumbling his eyes roll over to his door, satisfied that it is closed he cups his hands in front of his mouth.

Gold ignites his eyes, and as he pulls his hands down a blue butterfly appears. It flies free from his protective cocoon, and Merlin smiles watches it fly, feeling the bright magic that sustains the spell even when he closes his eyes.

A few minutes pass, and Merlin knows he has to let go of the spell, lest he end up discovered.

Still sleep mussed, he half-heartedly runs his hands through his hair, before levering himself up. Deciding against changing out of his pajamas, he pads out of the spare room that has now become his.

Climbing down the stairs, Merlin has no idea whether Arthur will still be around,.Uther’s heir would surely have things to keep him busy, right?

It seems he was wrong. As he steps blinking into the lounge to find Arthur sitting in one of the two chairs, bending forwards over the glass coffee table, which is covered almost entirely in sheets of paper.

He clearly hasn’t noticed Merlin’s arrival, eyes not even flickering away from what they’re reading.

Rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes, Merlin leans against the door frame, taking the presented opportunity to just observe.

Arthur’s handsome in both a classic sense, as well as a more unconventional one. Strong, defined jawline coupled with hair that in the bright midday sun appears to shine like gold.

Ten minutes must have passed before Merlin finally pushes off of the wall, forcing a cough that has Arthur all but leaping from his seat in surprise.

“What- Merlin!” Arthur says, already halfway out of his seat. 

“Good morning to you too.” 

“I would hardly call it morning, Merlin,” Arthur shoots, back, clearly trying to recompose himself.

“It’s before midday, right?”

“Just barely.”

Shrugging, Merlin turns towards the kitchen. “Do you want anything?”

There’s a pause, Arthur’s mouth falling open, his eyebrows drawing together.

“A black coffee.”

The urge to roll his eyes at the reply is strong but somehow Merlin squashes it, giving a nod instead as he turns away. 

He’s waiting for the kettle to boil, when Arthur joins him, the blond taking a seat at the small table, his elbows resting against the cream surface and his hands clasped in front of his face.

Hair at the back of his neck prickling, Merlin suddenly feels under scrutiny, and he has to try and distract himself by sinking his attention into the task at hand.

When he finishes preparing the drinks for them both, Merlin takes them over to the table, placing Arthur’s coffee in front of him, and lowering himself into the second of the three chairs.

He curls his fingers around his mug, taking no heed of the temperature, and leaning forwards so he can inhale the steam. 

Merlin’s eyes are just slipping closed when Arthur speaks.

“You’ll need to get up earlier tomorrow.” Merlin opens one eye, peering up through his eyelashes.

“Why?”

“Because you will be being interviewed by a member of staff at Pendragon Development Ltd and they’ll find the best department for you.”

Merlin opens his mouth in a silent “oh”.

“Um, alright, thanks.” Honestly he hadn't thought much past meeting Arthur. A job - he’d always thought that would be something he needed to find in his own, and that whatever it would be, it would always be dull, and uninspiring; something that didn't really challenge him. 

That things had been put in place to ensure he would find something in which he could actually use his skills is a refreshing thought. Not so comforting, however, is the knowledge that he would be placed even further under Uther’s influence. 

“What time do I need to be ready for?”

“Nine am. Either Mithian or Percival will be driving us over, and then you’ll be meeting with Gwen who works in the HR department.”

“All right, I’ll try my best, but the bed is just so comfy, I don’t want to get up in the morning.” Merlin finally looks up from his drink, meeting Arthur’s eyes head on, as he exhales a sigh at Merlin’s comment.

“If you just went to bed earlier, you wouldn’t be so tired in the morning.” Arthur’s tone implies that he thinks Merlin should be well acquainted with time management.

“No promises, but I’ll try my best.”

~

The next morning, by some sort of miracle Merlin manages to wake up at a reasonable hour. Resisting the urge to hit snooze on the alarm clock when it goes off, and dragging himself from his cocoon of warmth.

Knowing that Arthur had not had the chance to purchase him yet more new clothes, so he rifled through what clothes he did have, deciding eventually on something that made him look at least marginally professional.

And when he meets Arthur downstairs the blond gives him a nod of approval.

It’s only a short drive to Pendragon Development Ltd, stepping out of the car, Merlin’s breath catches in his throat at the size of the building before him.

So distracted is he that Arthur almost manages to leave him behind, and it’s only by jogging does he manage to catch back up, falling in besides Arthur as they enter through the automatic glass doors.

They cross over to the reception desk, Merlin trying his best to keep his staring to a minimum. 

The receptionist has long blond hair, tucked neatly behind her ears, but not tied up, her blue eyes shoot up to meet Arthur’s, responding to his nod.

“Good Morning, sir.” Her eyes flick briefly to Merlin, categorising him, then deciding him unimportant looking away once more.

“Merlin here has an appointment with Gwen. Please inform her that he’s arrived.” Arthur says, paying no mind to whatever Eira may be thinking.

“Of course. It you could take a seat, I will inform Gwen.” Eira gestures over to the arrangement of chairs that sit next two one of the glass walls.

Merlin nods, but does not move, waiting to see if Arthur has anything to add before he’s left on his lonesome.

Arthur does not it seems, giving Merlin a quick touch on the arm, and rolling his eyes towards the chairs.

“I’ll collect you later.” Arthur turns away then, heading off to the pair of lifts Merlin can see on the other side of the room.

“Alright.”

Merlin spares only a tiny glance from the corner of his eye for Eira, who seems to be determined to ignore him, before he goes over to the chairs.

Losing him to his thoughts, Merlin nearly jumps from his seat when he heard his name.

“Hu?” Whipping his head around he is met with a kind face surrounded by dark ringleted hair.

“You’re Merlin, am I correct?”

“Yes, yes. You must be Gwen?” He offers his hand for her to shake, feeling like that was the appropriate way to behave given where he was.

“Yes, nice to meet you.” Her hand takes his, grip firm, and somehow reassuring.

“How are you?” She asks, as Merlin gets to his feet, ready to follow his lead.

“Alright, you?” He goes for a non committal answer, not sure entirely of the appropriate level of politeness needed in his situation.

“I’m good, thank you.” She offers him another smile, as they cross over to the elevators that Arthur had used earlier. 

“Have you ever been to an interview before?” Gwen asks as they step into the lift.

Merlin opens his mouth to answer, that he has not, but before he can Gwen’s eyes suddenly widen.

“Not that it’s a bad thing if you haven’t- it’s just that I know no a lot of schools don’t bother to teach interview skills anymore, because they don’t expect that their students will ever need to know.” A blush is spreading over Gwen’s cheeks

“It’s fine, really, but no I haven’t ever had an interview before.” Merlin scratches at the back of his neck, feeling his ears heat up.

“Well you shouldn’t be nervous. This isn’t a pass or fail thing, it’s just to find out what you know already so we can find the best place to put you.”

“Okay.”

~

True to Gwen’s assertions the interview is nowhere near as stressful as Merlin had anticipated, in fact once all the questions are out of the way, the both of them are able to drop into an easy conversation. Chatting about anything from the weather to what it’s like living with their partners. 

Which to Merlin’s shock leads him to the discovery that Gwen is in fact married to Morgana, Arthur's half sister, and that that essentially made them siblings in law.

Gwen had of course already known this, but it doesn’t stop her being happy for him, when Merlin admits to her that he has never really had any family apart from his adoptive mother.

They resolve that they will make an effort to see each other often, as a chance to escape the pressure that at times dodges the heels of both Pendragon children, and anyone associated with them.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s been a few hours since they both arrived back home. Arthur had gone straight up to his room, with the intention to clear and rearrange his things so that Merlin would have some space to move in. After all now that they’re married, people will expect them to be sharing the same room - especially Uther, who may, now that their grace period is over, take the opportunity to pop around for a surprise visit.

It’s something his father tends to do when he suspects Arthur of doing something he disagrees with. Arthur knows Uther still thinks Arthur clueless to the tactic. It’s something Arthur like to make the most of.

Raking one hand through his hair - further messing it up - Arthur straightens back up, finally satisfied that he had managed to clear up enough space for Merlin’s things.

It’s only then that it occurs to him that he has neither seen nor heard a single peep from his new husband for the entire time. Brows creasing, he freezes, straining his ears in case he has simply missed something because he had be concentrating.

When he’s only met with silence, however, he decides he’d better find out what Merlin is up to.

It only takes Arthur about ten minutes to locate Merlin. 

The first thing Arthur sees when he pushes open the door to their lounge, is Merlin’s jacket laid neatly over the back of one of the soft chairs. Arthur exhales a slightly amused sound when he sees it, thinking back to their conversation the day before, when he had had to explain to Merlin how hard it was to get creases out of dry clean only suits, and that he should at least try and take care to not let it get creased to start with.

Entering the room properly, he spots Merlin straight away. 

Merlin’s practically draped over the sofa, one hand lying across his chest, rising ever so slightly with each breath, his other hand hanging off the edge of the cushions, the backs of his fingers brushing against the pale blue carpet covering the floor. His head’s turned away from Arthur, nose pressing into a pillow, dark hair flared out on the fabric.

Studying the little he can see of Merlin’s features, Arthur’s eyes land on the grey smudges that fill the hollows of Merlin’s skin. Two weeks and he still looks as exhausted as he did the first day they had met. Fine bones still too sharp, though Arthur would hardly expect that Merlin would start to fill out after just two weeks, he did expect Merlin to have settled into his new life by now.

Arthur feels a wave of guilt, suddenly hyper aware of how little attention he has been paying to Merlin that he hasn’t even noticed anything was amiss.

He sinks onto the arm of the sofa, weighted down by the overload of his emotions.

He sighs heavily, fingers itching to reach out and brush Merlin’s hair back. He holds himself back, feeling like he hasn’t earnt the right.

Something had flipped in Arthur that day. Nothing big, nothing world changing - except. Maybe it was world changing. 

Arthur had been allowed a glimpse into Merlin’s world in a way he had not previously. His smile when someone had presented him with a quite frankly massive slice of cake, and the way it only had grown after the first taste. One of the first truly genuine displays of happiness Arthur had actually seen from him. 

It ignited something inside Arthur, warming him, and spreading a feeling of comfort and safety that he had never experienced in regards to another person before. 

He wants to do everything in his power to make Merlin smile like that again, to show him how much he matters, not just as two people joined under the law, but also as someone that, dare Arthur admit it, he loves?

Rather than reaching out, he purses his lips, a plan forming in his mind. He wants to be better, to actually get to know Merlin on a level that truly means something. 

~

Arthur leaves Merlin to sleep for a few more hours reasoning that if he doesn’t wake on his own then his body needs the rest.

Night is starting to fall when Arthur heads back downstairs, Merlin needs to be woken up now if he wants to be able to sleep at all overnight, that and it’s almost dinner time, and Arthur knows that Merlin does enjoy his food.

He takes up his previous position, though this time he has no qualms about touching Merlin.

Arthur rests one hand on a shirt clad shoulder, give a half shake.

“Merlin.”

There’s a beat of silence. Arthur purses his lips, debating whether to go for another shake or not.

“Merrrlin.”

A sharp poke to Merlin’s side follows the second iteration of his name. It succeeds in waking Merlin, whose blue eyes part, for a second before narrowing into squints as he registers the brightness of the ceiling light.

Merlin groans low, as he rubs at his eyes.

“What time is it?”

Arthur glances at his watch, answering before he looks back up.

“Four fifty three.”

Merlin groans again, levering himself upright, and Arthur has to suppress a fond smile at his sleepy expression.

“You hungry?” Arthur asks after a spat of silence.

“Ah, umm, yes.”

“Come on, I’ll make us something but you need to let me know what you like.” Arthur’s suddenly more animated, giving a tug at Merlin’s sleeve, when he fails to move quickly enough.

~

Merlin hums in appreciation as he polishes off the last bite of plaice and creamy mash, his tongue darting out to capture the last drops of sauce on his fork.

They’re both sitting in the kitchen, Merlin having watched the entire time as Arthur all but danced round the kitchen, clearly enjoying himself in a way Merlin has yet to see him do.

“Thank you,” Merlin offers, though his voice is distorted as he muffles a yawn behind his hand. 

Warm and full, Merlin feels his eyelids growing heavy, each blink taking longer and longer.

Arthur sweeps their plates away, depositing them in the dishwasher.

“You know I was thinking.” Arthur turns, a portion of his usual self confidence missing as he sits.

“Hm?” Merlin straightens in his seat, leaning forwards so he can drop his chin into his hands.

“Now we’re married, I thought it might be the right time for us to move into one room.” Arthur breaks eye contact at the last moment, though in his shock Merin almost misses the action. “Only if you want to, of course.”

“I-” A warmth heats Merlin’s cheeks, and he see’s Arthur twitch ready to accept rejection, “I would love to.”

~

Up in their now shared room, Arthur watches as Merlin stuffs a selection of his clothing into a drawer, his eye twitching slightly as he envisages how many creases the action is causing.

Rather than continue to contemplate, Arthur climbs into bed - the left side of course - leaning back against the headboard, and getting comfortable as Merlin finishes what he’s messing with his things.

Merlin rounds the side of the bed, hand reaching out to stroke the red sheets. There’s sudden shiness to his actions in a way that is unfamiliar to Arthur, even when they had first met, though Merlin had been more than a little nerves, at no point had he come across as shy.

“It’s not going to bite.”

Merlin’s eyes flick up, his tongue sticking out, but he finally pulls the covers back, and climbs into bed. He settles right at the farthest edge, body tense, so it was obvious even under the duvet. 

The bed itself is large, the space between almost uncrossable, like a gaping chasm. 

Sliding down from his sitting position, Arthur rolls onto his side, staring at the side of Merlin’s face. He watches as long lashes come to rest on Merlin’s cheeks, the brunette looking to go straight to sleep.

They lie in silence for a while, only sounds of their breathing and the wind as it rustles the trees outside, stopping it from becoming uncomfortable.

Now seems like a good time to try and broach some of that distance in the form of conversation.

~

Breath ghosting against his neck is the first thing Arthur’s aware of when he awakens, there is also a warmth pressed against his side. Eyes still closed he hums low, body still relaxed, before he turns his head only to be met with a face full of thick hair.

Wrinkling his nose, Arthur opens his eyes. The room is still bathed in darkness, only small trickles of light creeping around the edges of his blackout curtains, for the first few moments he could see nothing. But blinking and pulling his head back a little, he was quickly able to identify the hair as belonging to Merlin.

Where they had started the night almost as far away from each other as possible, now they were pressed up against each other, legs tangled together.

Arthur froze, as Merlin murmured something indecipherable, one of his hands clenching at the loose fabric of Arthur’s nightshirt. 

He knows should extract himself, but he finds he really doesn’t want to. Enjoying the feel of another person there with him.

He presses his nose into Merlin’s hair, inhaling the scent of the shampoo he had last used, as well as something else. Something unique to Merlin. 

Arthur almost drifts back off to sleep, enjoying the feel of Merlin besides him perhaps a little too much. He is jerked awake instead, when Merlin shifts besides him, finally stirring himself. 

Blue eyes blink heavily, it takes them a moment for their owner to register what he’s seeing, but the moment he does, Merlin jumps back. Or jumps as far as one can when tangled with another person. 

Feeling his cheeks warm Arthur can only offer a teasing answer. 

“Sleep well?”

~

It’s easy for them to fall into a proper routine now they’re living in the same room. No more hovering outside doors waiting for the other to finish, or simply to avoid any awkward moments together.

After waking that first morning, lying all but on top of each other, their previous determination to always keep at least a foot distance between themselves melts away into casual contact. The brushing of fingers against arms, as they pass by. Every morning finding them in each other’s embrace, despite this however they remain chaste, their morning snuggles with Merlin’s head under Arthur’s chin, and Arthur’s arms around Merlin’s clothed waist the most intimate they had yet been.

That didn’t stop them showing affection through other methods, and it quickly became routine for cook Arthur to cook for them both after they return home from work. 

On a few occasions Arthur even attempts to teach Merlin how to cook, to varying amounts of success. It does however provide Merlin with ample opportunity to lean into Arthur, as the he stands close behind Merlin, his slightly tan hands covering Merlin’s pale ones as he directs.

It’s the following weekend, and the pair of them are bundled up on the sofa, a blanket spread over their laps. Merlin’s legs are in between Arthur’s, his toes shoved under strong thighs.

It’s mid-afternoon and, they’re listening to some soothing music on the radio, whilst they watch the clouds travel past. Christmas is starting to draw close, and even though traditions have changed vastly in recent years, there are still things to look forward too.

Personally Merlin is most excited about being able to actually enjoy any snow that settles, being able to go out and have fun outside in it, without having to worry about how he would get warm afterwards.

Squirming his toes where they rest, Arthur shoots him a look, before Merlin suddenly finds himself with a mouthful of fabric.

Pulling the pillow down so he can rest his chin on it, Merlin shakes it head, dislodging hair from his eyes.

“Thanks for the pillow.” Merlin says as he smiles so wide his cheeks hurt. 

He feels content in a way he has never been before, able to let his guard down in a way he never was able to before living with the other magic users, and though he knows he can not tell Arthur now, he has hope that perhaps one day he will be able to without fear.

That is until Merlin is rudely reminded of exactly whose son it is who he is living with.

The shrill ring of Arthur’s mobile cut across anything Arthur might have retorted with.

He watches as Arthur whips his phone out, face falling as he spots the caller ID. Arthur’s up and out of the room in a flash, Merlin barely registering as he’s left bereft of Arthur’s body heat.

Dragging the blanket up to his shoulders Merlin leans against the back of the sofa, nose just poking over the top, as he strains his ears, trying to hear anything Arthur is saying.

Failing to decipher anything, his eyes drop, staring blankly down at the red carpet of the room.

When Arthur does finally return his eyebrows are drawn together, and his mouth has a slight downturn.

“That was my father.”

Merlin tenses at Arthur’s words, irrationally worried that his magic had somehow been discovered despite the confidence he had that not one had been around to see the tiny amounts he had used since he and Arthur had moved in together.

But Arthur continues, not noticing how uncomfortable Merlin is.

“He wants us both to attend his annual Christmas event.”

“I’m sure I can handle it, there’s not way it could be that bad.” Merlin tries, but Arthur’s already shaking his head before he even finishes.

Arthur drops back onto the sofa eyes closed, as he drags his hand up through his hair.

“It’s not you I’m worried about. I know you’re more than capable.” His eyes open, but he doesn’t look round, “it’s my father and his- his acquaintances that I do worry about. Some of them are less than savoury.”

Exhaling slowly, Merlin shuffles closer, knowing somehow that this is something Arthur needs to work through. He nudges his shoulder against Arthur’s, hoping that the gesture comes across as reassuring.

There’s a long pause, as Arthur works through his thoughts, the crease between his eyes never letting up.

“You’re supposed to be able to trust your parents, to know that they will always do their best not to lead you astray.” He cuts himself off, mentally phrasing his next words. “But the more I learn, the more some of my father’s actions appear completely wrong. Not made with people’s best interests at heart.”

Merlin’s heart flutters in his chest. A lump forms in his throat, which he can’t swallow passed.

“Magic…” Merlin’s glad Arthur’s not looking in his direction as he fails to stop his body's physical reaction.

He had seen signs, just little things that suggested maybe Arthur wasn’t entirely on board with Uther’s anti-magic regime, but even in his wildest dreams he could never have envisaged that Arthur would ever say it out loud.

“How can it be that everyone that uses it evil? That just doesn’t make sense.”

Merlin’s heart is hammering in his chest. 

Now should be the perfect opportunity to come clean, but even as he opens his mouth he find he can’t say the words. It’s like there’s a wall in his mind, built up over years of keeping secrets.

The prospect of giving it away to someone, even when after he’s been told that they don’t think everyone with magic is evil, freezes him with fear.

Reaching out and threading his fingers through Arthur’s Merlin screws up his courage, pressing his insecurities aside he speaks.

“Som- sometimes your parents are wrong.” Arthur’s head whips around, his eyes wide, frown on his lips.

“What?”

“My parents left me on a doorstep.” Arthur looks disgusted to be reminded of this fact, but Merlin can only shrug, while he knows to most people the thought of abandoning a child is appalling, to Merlin it is his normal. He doesn’t think anything of it. “My point is, that adults don’t always know best. It doesn’t make you a bad son to not agree with your father on everything.”

There’s an answering squeeze, as they lock eyes, realisation clear in Arthur’s eyes.

“This party your father wants us to go to? It’ll be fine.”

~

 

“I feel like everyone’s looking at me,” Merlin mutters, not really intending for Arthur to hear him, he tugs at the cuffs of his sleeves, but a few seconds later Merlin feels hot breath on his ear.

“That’s because they are.”

“Stop that, you prat. You’re not helping,” Merlin says, pushing effectually at Arthur’s shoulder, though he can’t stop the smile that curls at his lips. Arthur presses a quick kiss to Merlin’s cheek, before they make their way inside.

Arthur’s hand low on his back stirs Merlin deeper into the entrance hall, towards a waiter with a tray of drinks.

“Don’t worry, I won’t leave you alone.” The words are barely above a whisper, accompanying the press of cool glass into his hand.

Arthur’s hand moves down to rest on his lower back, not possessive, but as a warning to anyone.

He feels uncomfortably warm now they’re out of the chill of the evening.

The venue is extravagant, walls a warm yellow, crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, while countless champagne flutes filled with all manner of liquids covered tables. The centre table held plates of food, the centre taken over by a chocolate fountain which Merlin found himself staring at, despite his best attempts not to.

Merlin is overly aware of how busy the venue already is, people dressed to the nines in clothes that likely cost more money than Merlin could even imagine.

Not that the clothes he was wearing now were by any means cheap. Suit jacket and trousers, a navy blue so dark is bordered on black, the same shade as Arthur’s, along with a pressed white shirt, and silver cufflinks shaped like falcons.

As a nervous tick, Merlin stroked his fingers over the cufflinks, memorising the feel of each curve of the metal. Arthur had gifted them to Merlin earlier that day, after he had seen how self-conscious the new suit made Merlin.

Merlin felt a rush in his chest as he recalled Arthur’s expression when he had handed over the present.

He snapped back to reality as someone brushed past him. He sidesteps almost crashing into Arthur as all remaining space between them disappears.

Arthur’s shoulder nudges against his, attracting Merlin’s attention as he nods his head towards the left.

Leaning forwards Merlin’s eyes darts of the crowd of people occupying that side of the room.

“Let’s go see my sister, she would kill me if I didn’t introduce you.”

It’s only at Arthur’s words, does Merlin finally spot, first Gwen and then Morgana.

A hand suddenly takes his, and before Merlin can even think about replying to Arthur, he is half way across the room.

Gwen notices them first, her face breaking into a smile, as she nudges Morgana, directing her wife's attention towards them, just as they come to a halt in front of them pair.

“Merlin! It’s lovely to see you again.”

There’s a tug, and the next thing he knows is his face is pressed against soft curly hair, as arms encircle his body.

He blinks once, before it registers that he is being hugged. Lips parting, he forces himself to relax, wrapping his own arms - well as much as he’s able with them half-pinned to his sides around Gwen in return.

“Hey, Gwen.”

Just as Gwen release’s him, a second pair of hands grab him by the shoulders, making him turn so he’s facing Morgana. 

She’s wearing a blood red dress, the fabric flowing down her body, pulled in and loose in all the right places to highlight her figure. Gold fastenings, contrast with the red, shining under the bright light, and adding that extra layer of sophistication.

Her expression is unreadable as Morgana examines him, she doesn’t say thing, but apparently he passes her test, as her lips curl into a smile.

“I’m nice to finally meet you, Merlin.” She releases him, offering her hand instead, which he accepts without hesitation.

“Nice to meet you too.”

Turning away from Merlin, Morgana goes on to greet her brother, while Gwen recaptures Merlin’s attention.

“How’s the job going? Did we place you right?” Nervousness from Gwen is not exactly uncommon, but Merlin can tell this is more than just her usual backtracking rambling.

He smiles back, hoping it comes off as reassuring. A few days after his interview, Merlin had received a letter telling him that, he had been placed in the research department, at Pendragon Development Ltd, which would allow he to put his natural curiosity to a good use.

“It’s going fine, still a lot for me to learn about everything. And to get used to the hours.” He shrugs.

“And you’re not bored, or anything like that?”

“Not at all, it’s fascinating stuff for the most part.” The tension in Gwen's shoulders eases at his words.

“Good, good.” She leans in close, “you let me know if you have any problems alright?” She holds his eyes, impressing upon him the seriousness of her statement.

“Of course. Thank you.”

After that the four of them find themselves dragged into conversation. People eager to leave their impressions on the any members of the Pendragon households.

Arthur and Morgana are the main attraction, of course, but some do target Gwen and him.

One particular man, with brown, close cropped hair, takes it a step further.

Arthur, and Morgana were stood slightly aside of him and Gwen, engaged quiet completely in what sounded like a debate with an older man, with whom they both seemed familiar.

Valient, as Merlin would later learn he was called, had sidled in incredibly close, his alcohol laced breath hot and uncomfortable against Merlin’s cheek. 

Holding his breath, Merlin tries to lean away, only for Valient to follow, the drunken man, going as far as to drop one hand on Merlin’s arm, the touch a complete contrast to Morgana’s hold from earlier. 

This feeling possessive and threatening, where Morgana’s had simply been curious. Besides him he can all but feel the unease radiating off of Gwen, he wants to turn to her, to tell her to leave, but he doesn’t want to shift Valient’s attention towards her.

“What’s Pendragon like at home, hm?” On the surface of it, the question could appear innocent, but when coupled with the leer Valient aimed at him, Merlin knew it most certainly was not. He curls in on himself, trying to make himself as small as possible.

Heart skipping a beat, he tries to pull his arm free, only for Valient’s finger to tighten around the limb. The hold hurts, and Merlin can’t stop a wince. 

“Please let me go.”

“Why don’t I show you, what a real man it like?” 

Gwen gasps from somewhere behind him, and Merlin flinches, jerking his arm again to try and break free.

He can feel a panic starting to seize him, Arthur’s name forming on his tongue. 

Before he can cry out however, a shadow falls over them. Hand descending on Valient’s shoulder.

“Get away from him.” Arthur’s voice is no louder than it is during an everyday conversation, his tone is enough to freeze the blood in someone’s veins.

Arthur’s hand tightens it’s hold, his fingers turning white from the effort. 

Until with a small cry Valient releases Merlin, who steps back the instant he is free. He almost sinks into Gwen’s hold as she directs him further backwards.

Within seconds Arthur has summoned two security guards, who _escort_ Valient forcefully from the premises. All the while, Arthur aims death glares into the man’s back, his hands curled into fists.

Merlin’s highly aware of the fact that those who had been standing closest to them are now staring, but Merlin forces himself to concentrate solely on Arthur, to block everyone else out.

Arthur closes his eyes a moment, taking a few slow breaths that having his shoulders rising up and down, before he joins Gwen at Merlin’s side.

Taking both of Merlin’s hands carefully in his own, he walks Merlin to the edge of the room. From the corner of his eye, Merlin sees Morgana go to Gwen.

Out of the way of everyone, Merlin is able to let himself shiver, dispelling the lingering feeling of Valient’s hold on him, to meet Arthur’s concerned eyes.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you anywhere?” Arthur’s hands hover a few inches from Merlin’s face, like he’s afraid to touch.

“No, no Arthur. I’m fine. Just a bit shocked.” Merlin takes one of Arthur’s hands in his own, pressing it to his own cheek. “Seriously.”

Arthur’s eyes examine him for a few more moments, his thumb stroking up and down Merlin’s cheek as he does.

“He’s a total creep. Thank you for getting rid of him.”

After that, they remain practically glued to each other, Arthur refusing to acknowledge the subtle and sometimes not so subtle hints that some people drop that what they have to say is for Arthur’s ears only and they do not wish for Merlin to listen.

If before Merlin had had any doubt about Arthur’s feeling for him, now he knows for sure.

~

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” Arthur gives an exasperated sigh, wrapping his arm around Merlin’s shoulders, both in support, and to pull him close.

“What do’ya expect? I’m eighteen ‘n never drank before.” Merlin’s words slur into each other, and he presses the side of his face into Arthur’s shoulder.

“Alright, let’s get you some water and some air.”

Luckily, most of the evening's attendees have already started to depart, so no one tries to drag Arthur (or Merlin) into a conversation as Arthur take them out a side door.

There’s a table next to the doors they head towards, luckily it’s one of the few that holds on-alcoholic drinks, pushed back out of the way, and still mostly full. 

It’s easy for Arthur to divert them over to the table, it’s harder however, to get a drink without spilling it everywhere whilst still supporting Merlin, but he manages it, somehow.

Stepping outside, Arthur has to suppress a suder as the cool air hits him, and he feels Merlin shrink closer, trying to leach as much of Arthur’s heat as possible.

Huffing a breath that fogs in front of him, Arthur drags Merlin down the short flight of stairs, until they reach the edge of the back garden. There, finding a low wall, Arthur maneuvers Merlin into a sitting position, on top of it, then without removing his own support, offers Merlin the drink.

“It’s not water, like I said, but I know you like orange and it’ll work just as well.”

Merlin simply blinks owlishly back at Arthur, brain obviously slow to process everything through the haze of alcohol.

Sighing, Arthur brings the glass to Merlin’s lips, waiting until he understands the gesture before Arthur slowly tips it. The juice is gone in no more that a few mouthfuls and as Arthur withdraws the glass, Merlin already starts to look a little better.

He’s proved wrong in that assumption not ten seconds later when Merlin leans forwards - so far that Arthur has to catch him, lest he end up face down on the floor.

“You’re very handsome.” Merlin’s words are near enough slur free, and Arthur feels a blush at the tips of his ears. Their eyes meet for a second before Merlin’s close.

“Thanks, I think.”

“It’s true.” Merlin jabs at Arthur’s chest.

“In that case, thank you for your esteemed opinion.”

“I don’t feel so good.”

“I know.” Arthur says, as he reaches around Merlin’s shoulders, straightening him from his slump. “Let’s go home, and get you in bed.”

~

It’s a few days after Merlin’s unfortunate incident at the party, and blessedly the weekend.

Both of them are sat on their sofa, hands tangled in each other’s hair as they kiss deeply and long. 

Merlin moans into the kiss, nipping at Arthur’s bottom lip, making the blond return the sound.

He twists his left hand more into Arthur’s hair, trying to pull him closer, while his right hand sneaks up the underside of Arthur’s shirt, to lay against warm skin.

Arthur gasps, pulling back at the coolness of the contact, and they break apart both panting to devour as much air as they can.

Smirking Merlin slides his hand further up Arthur’s chest, feeling the firm muscles under his fingertips.

He locks eyes with Arthur as he reaches Arthur’s pecs, his lips parting and his eyes wide.

“Is this alright?”

Instead of answering Arthur snucks off his shirt, licking his kiss swollen lips, and diving back in to capture Merlin’s.

Assured, Merlin splays both of his hands over Arthur’s chest mapping it out, while Arthur tugs at his hair. He can feel his trousers growing tight, and a quick glance down, show’s him Arthur is experiencing the same predicament. 

One of Arthur’s hands snakes up the back of his shirt. Merlin arches into the touch, forcing Arthur to follow least their kiss be broken. Only for his shirt to suddenly force them apart, as Arthur lifts it over Merlin’s head.

“I think we should take this upstairs.” Arthur says his voice husky already.

“Good idea.”

They get up, Merlin having to adjust his jeans slightly before they hurry up the stairs, hardly able to keep their hands off of each other for more than ten seconds, so by the time they actually reach the bed, both of them are flushed, with hair stuck up in all directions.

Kicking the door closed, Merlin takes the lead, putting both of his hands on Arthur’s shoulders, and walking him backwards step, by step until they reach the bed.

Spreading his legs apart until they’re pressed chest to chest, Merlin licks at Arthur’s jaw, anticipation growing as their cocks brush together through their trousers, and spike of pleasure shoots through him.

Using the moment of distraction, Merlin drops to his knees, his fingers trailing down Arthur until they reach his waistband. 

Merlin slides one finger past the fabric, his eyes glues on Arthur’s face categorising everyone one of the blond’s expressions. What he finds there only makes the plight in his trousers stronger.

The teeth of the zipper click, the sound strangely loud even over the sound of Merlin’s blood as it rushes past his ears.

Easing Arthur’s jean’s down over Arthur’s bum, Merlin is met directly with Arthur’s clothed cock. 

Merlin’s cheeks warm, and he finds himself licking his lips before he presses them against the clothed bulge.

It’s just a chaste kiss, but Arthur’s head still falls back. Merlin can see the muscles in Arthur’s legs trembling. Merlin grasps a hold of Arthur’s hip, applying pressure until he gets him to sit back onto the bed.

Getting to his feet, Merin lays another kiss to Arthur’s lips. 

“You should scooch back a bit.”

Merlin suggests, backing up a little, so Arthur can move.

Once Arthur’s laid out on his back, Merlin joins him on the bed.

He crawls over the covers, eyes glued on Arthur’s face. He reaches down with one hand, awkwardly undoing his own trousers.

As he frees his cock, Merlin sees Arthur lick his own lips, the black of his pupils almost completely consuming the blue of his irises.

Merlin leans forwards, his fingers threading through the elastic of Arthur’s waist band, before he pulls it down.

Arthur’s cock springs free, and Merlin wraps his fingers around it, giving it an upwards stroke.

Arthur moans loud, his hips bucking upwards into Merlin’s hand.

“Do you have anything?” Merlin asks, tilting his head.

“Draws.” Arthur manages between breaths.

Straddling himself over Arthur, Merlin, leans across the bed, thumbling in the bedside cabinet, he pulls out a bottle of oil.

Using his teeth Merlin opens it, pouring it all over his fingers, until it's dripping onto the bedsheets.

He turns back to Arthur, who spread his legs without prompting, lifting his knees so as to give Merlin access.

Trailing a finger around Arthur’s hole, Merlin slowly pushes in, keeping his eyes fixed on Arthur the whole time, looking for any sign that he needs to stop.

“Merlin.” Arthur purrs is name low in his throat, as Merlin brushes past that one spot inside of him.

Encouraged, Merlin presses in a second finger, slowly working to open Arthur up. His own cock is painfully hard, aroused solely by the picture Arthur makes in front of him.

In what feels like no time at all Merlin has Arthur ready, and open to accept his cock.

Pouring yet more of the oil over his fingers, Merlin slicks his cock up, having to bite his lip as the movement pushes him closer to the edge.

The feel as he first enters Arthur is close to perfect, Merlin’s eyes closing as he savours the moment, Arthur’s legs hooking around his waist.

Arthur’s heels dug into the small of Merlin’s back, dragging him forwards until he’s seated completed inside Arthur.

He takes a moment to steady them both, leaning forwards Merlin’s hands bracket either side of Arthur, fisting the sheets.

Affection rushes through him as Merlin opens his eyes, locking with Arthur’s.

He starts off withdrawing slowly, a whimper bubbling up from his throat as the sensation threatens to overwhelm him already.

One look at Arthur’s face and he can tell he’s feeling the same.

Pressing forwards again into the tightness, Arthur moves to meet him, their skin slapping together.

Nether of them last long, both new to the sensations that over take their senses. 

Arthur’s the first to fall over the edge, Merlin’s name ripping from his lips, the clenching of his muscles around Merlin pulling him over the edge only moments later.

Merlin sags forwards until his forehead is pressed against Arthur’s, their breath mingling.

Sweat and come clinging to both of them, Merlin levers himself up from the bed, offer his hand out to Arthur, helping haul him up right. Before they both hurry off to the shower.


	4. Chapter 4

Flipping the paper over, a wash of cold runs down Merlin’s spine, freezing his limbs, and sending his heart racketing in his chest. It’s a letter, the sender’s signature one he would recognise anywhere, swirling and looping in black ink.

It’s like his worst nightmare has been realised. It’s not that he had ever forgotten the plan - in fact it had been looming in the back of his mind, always forcing him to keep a little something back. To keep his distance.

Merlin’s breath stoppers in his throat. He had thought he would have more time. Time to find another way to set magic free, without the need for violence.

Even when he was growing up surrounded almost on all sides by those that believed only in these most radical of solutions, he had disagreed. At first out loud, then only to himself after others made their displeasure for his view known.

He wants to rage, to erase we words on the page before him. How can someone ask him to choose between innocent lives and that of the one he loves?

His heart physically aches at the thought of betraying Arthur.

But the prospect of others who had no part in this long game played between these two great powers being snuffed out leaves a guilt he does not think he could live with.

His fingers rake through his hair pulling harshly at the roots.

Since their marriage, they had grown closer, both of them letting their guards down, allowing the other in piece by piece.

It’s only now, faced with the prospect of losing Arthur, that Merlin is able to admit how he feels - how he loves him.

Crumbling the letter in his hands, Merlin forces himself to take a slow, shuddering breath, squeezing the paper tightly into a small ball.

As much as Merlin could not bear the thought of betraying Arthur, he knows that if he doesn’t go through with the plan, worse would be in store.

Massaging the bridge of his nose, Merlin tries to compose himself while his eyes burn with tears that threaten to fall.

Biting his lip until it bleeds, Merlin throws the letter away.

He’s just in time, as not twenty seconds later the door opens and Arthur strides in.

“You alright, Merlin? You’re looking a little pale.” 

“Fine, I’m fine. Just a little tired, you know, getting used to the new job.”

It’s a flimsy excuse and Merlin knows it, but Arthur isn't looking for a lie, so he simply shrugs, and drops it. 

~

The prospect of being used against his father is one Arthur had been aware of his whole life, but of all the people he had thought would be on the other end, it had never been him.

Never Merlin.

"I can't-"

Arthur's lips move silently, forming a question that he never gets the chance to vocalise.

In the next second, Merlin is backing away, magic gone from his eyes and from around Arthur's neck. 

He suddenly looks much smaller, the shadows, no longer held back by the glow of his magic, lapping at him, trying to drag him into their depths. If Arthur hadn't just witnessed Merlin's power he would never be able to reconcile the slight figure before him with an assassin.

Merlin makes another move backwards and somehow Arthur knows that if he lets him escape now he'll never see him again, and he just can't let that happen.

He's crosses the room before he even realises it, hand reaching out to grab the fabric of Merlin's shirt.

There's a tug as his fingers close, but he holds fast, eyes searching the darkness where he can just see the outline of Merlin's face

"Arthur..."

The pain in Merlin’s voice cuts deep, slicing at his very core.

Merlin’s eyes give him away the split second before he acts, but there’s nothing Arthur can do to stop him.

Patches dance in front of Arthur’s eyes as, the golden glow that Merlin signals the use of his magic.

The fabric is pulled from his fingers by a force he couldn’t hope to match, before Merlin disappears from the room.

~

Running, Merlin has no idea where he’s going just that he needs to get as far away as he can, as quickly as he can. His actions are unforgivable.

There’s no way he can ever been forgiven.

He stumbles, almost falling, his ankle jaring painfully. Merlin decides he can’t go any further and that the nearest wall seems a good a place as any to collapse.

His shoulders hit the wall behind him, unsteady legs managing to hold him up for only a few seconds more before he's falling. 

His knees are at his chin, chest pressing against the back of his legs, constricting. 

He can't breath, each gulp of air is not enough as it rushes cold, through him. 

A buzz starts in his ears and his head is spinning.

Everything is too much, the world is pressing down on him. A weight he can't shift no matter how hard he tries. 

He's disgusted with himself, his skin itching as if he has tainted the magic that carries his life, and it can never once more be clean. 

He scratches at this skin, nails biting in a way they normally wouldn't be, nerves over-sensitised by his churning magic. 

The cold night air burns his lungs with each inhale.

He wishes he could just disappear.

~

That’s where Arthur finds him, a little over two hours later, his muscles starting to cramp and his joints aching as the cold seeps right down into his bones. Tear tracks have long since dried on his face, leaving his eyelids heavy.

He doesn’t respond to the sound of his name being called, already fallen too far into his own grief, mourning the loss of the relationship they had built together, for now there is surely no forgiveness - and he can’t bear to face the condemnation.

It is a surprise, then, when he feels a weight on his shoulder.

Turning a stiff neck, he’s met with the thick black fabric on Arthur’s favourite coat, its owner’s hand still tangled in the fabric.

“Come on, Merlin. You’re freezing.”

He’s being pulled forwards, away from the wall, one arm a warm weight across the back of his shoulders, dragging him.

Soft fabric is pulled around him, there’s a hand under his knees, and his head is pulled to rest against a sturdy shoulder, before the floor drops away.

His head spins, the sudden use of so much magic after so long without using a drop leaving him hollowed out. The constant fire under his skin is gone, making the chill of the day even more pronounced.

Arthur’s arms feel warm, comfortable as they surround him.

His stomach drops, eyes sliding out of focus as he’s lifted, pulled almost flush against Arthur’s chest.

They’re moving and Arthur is speaking above him, but he hears no words, only an indecipherable buzz in his ears.

He turns his face into the fabric of Arthur’s shirt, snuffling his chin into the jacket collar, and lets himself sink.

~

They stay on either side of the room, Merlin curled forwards in on himself, arms tightly around his middle as if he fears he might fly apart at any moment. His face is hidden, but Arthur can guess what form his features have taken: The same as the day before when he had all but collapsed into himself, a look of pure dejection and self-loathing on his face. 

Arthur on the other hand has slipped back on the adages of his father, locking his feelings away behind an unbreakable mask. 

In truth though, he doesn’t know exactly how he feels. Some swirling mixture of betrayal, pain and suffering, possibly.

He understands on some level why Merlin had attempted what he did - not that that makes it hurt any less, but he knew first hand what a crushing influence one's family, biological or not, could have on a person. Uther’s hardly a saint after all, and Arthur would freely admit to himself that he could no longer see eye to eye with the man. 

But even so, he could not see himself even contemplating going through with something like that. He just loves Merlin to much to even stomach the thought of hurting him. 

He had, perhaps naively, thought that Merlin felt the same way about him. And maybe, just maybe, he does, seeing how ill his actions had left him.

They remain sat in silence a while longer before it is Arthur that breaks it.

"There's someone you need to meet."

Grey lined eyes peek out from beneath a dark fringe, it takes all of Arthur's energy not to flinch at the emptiness he sees there. 

"A family friend, he has magic." Merlin flinches at the word magic, hunching further in on himself. "His name is Gaius. He used to help look after me and Morgana when we were younger. My father doesn't know of course, we would have never met him otherwise, but he showed us, when we were older. Made us understand that it is not magic itself that makes one evil, but how it is used."

Arthur had expected Merlin to react to his final words, but when he remained unmoving, a flare of worry ignited in his chest. 

"He can help us."

"No one can help." Merlin's voice is completely flat, lacking in any emotion in a way Arthur had never heard before. 

It scares Arthur, and he knows as much as Merlin clearly doesn't want to talk about what happened, Arthur needs to know who forced him to do it, and what the rest of their plans are.

He gets up, crossing the room until he's level with Merlin, Arthur drops to the floor. Placing his hands on Merlin's knees, Arthur takes a moment to compose himself. 

"Merlin."

"I need you to tell me who made you do it." He looks up.

Merlin's eyes meet is for a split second. 

"Where I'm from. There's the woman call Morgause."

"And she made you do it?"

"I had to. See said she was going to kill people if I didn't bring you in." He can hear the tremble as Merlin speaks. 

Arthur feels his heart clench. Merlin didn't attack because he wanted too, he was blackmailed. 

He swallows thickly as he realised Merlin will now be carrying the guilt of no only his actions against Arthur, but also the guilt for anyone this Morgause character hurts.

Arthur exhales a long breath, his forehead pressing against the backs of his hands. He squeezes Merlin's knees. He knows what he needs to do.

"I forgive you, Merlin."

He feels the moment Merlin registers the words, his body trying almost to retreat from Arthur's comfort. 

"I-"

"Don't. Don't say anything. It wasn't your fault and I forgive you." He can feel Merlin trying to shrink in on himself, even as he speaks. “And if this, Morgause hurts anyone, that is not your fault. You hear me? You are not responsible for her actions.”

“But…” Merlin can’t seem to get his words out.

Arthur reaches up, taking Merlin's chin and turning his head so they're looking at each other. "It'll be alright."

~

The meeting with Gaius does not go even vaguely how Merlin thought it would. Not that he knows what he was expecting really. 

It seems the old man knows more about magic than even more than those from back home. 

More than familiar with the legends that have dodged his heels since he was a child, when Merlin had hesitantly admitted that certain people had named him as Emrys, Gaius had been shocked.

And though he had quickly pulled his emotions behind a mask of indifference, Merlin can tell that he’s shaken. It’s after that however, as he recites the old lines, that any of them make the connection.

That Arthur is the Once and Future king, destined to be at Merlin’s side. Arthur had blanched at the news, having to sit down, head resting in his hands as he had digested the news.

Only for Gaius to spring yet more on them, though his time, of a nature that even Merlin has no prior knowledge.

Tails of a sword forged as the perfect weapon, to be wielded only by the legendary pair, lest it bring darkness to consume the land.

It’s not an easy task, but between the free of them they delve into Gaius’s books. Searching every manuscript that offers even the barest hint of knowledge pertaining to the sword.

Collating everything they discover. Drawing common mentions together and dismissing theories that read as simply too far fetched.

It takes many hours but they finally have their answer.

They know where Excalibur is.


	5. Chapter 5

Shadows coat the room, sucking away at the tiny flickers of light that feed off of wax and wick. In the centre sits Morgause. 

Her blonde hair flows free over her shoulders and down her back, though it does not rest tame, instead, stray ends curl up in every direction, betraying the fraying state of their owner.

In front of her sits a crystal, the surface polished, so it is almost clear as glass, but of the green tint that tains it’s makeup.

Her eyes, closed just a moment ago fly open, gold filling them, as a imaging forms in the crystal

She watches intently, Not breaking contact for even as second as the images play out before her.

Until suddenly with a deafening cry she leaps to her feet, knocking the crystal aside with a crack.

“Merlin.” She growls the name, her teeth bared, eyes wide a wild looking, even in the low light.

“This betrayal cannot stand.” There’s no one around to hear her, but she makes her vow nonetheless.

“I will have my revenge, Emrys or not.”

~

The news comes through on a sunday evening, Arthur’s phone flashing into life, starting both him and Merlin with it’s intensity.

A quick glance at the screen has the number identified as the emergency line for his father’s security, which instantly puts Arthur on edge.

Without a moment's delay he answers, trepidation for what he is about to hear written all over his features.

The conversation is hurried and disjointed, sounds in the background loud and competing to be heard over one another, though none of them manage to succeed in completely drowning out the voice on the other end.

But he gets the gist of it.

The second he hangs up, Merlin is by his side, long finger threading through his and squeezing.

“What;s wrong?”

“A sorcerous has broken into my father’s office and is threatening his life if I do not meet with her.” So wrapped up in the own chaos of his mind, Arthur almost misses the slight flicker in Merlin’s expression. 

“What?” It’s not that he doubts Merlin, it’s more that the certainly he see is frightening.

“It’s Morgause.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s exactly the sort of thing she would do, and she’s not long has any other option to carry out her revenge now that I’ve failed to carry out her plan.”

That makes sense of course.

“I need to go to him.” In the back of his mind he’s worried that Merlin would wish for Uther’s death. After all he’s the man that forces Merlin to hide himself everyday, is the man who left Merlin’s parents whom ever they were, no other choice but to abandon him on a door step.

“I know”

“I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

“No.” His heart almost stops at this. Does Merlin wish his father dead?

“Wha-”

“I’m coming with you.” Relief fills, him, but he can’t stop the niggling doubt.

“But-”

“No but’s. I’m coming, and so is Excalibur.”

And that there is the spirit that first made Arthur fall in love with Merlin.

~

It’s easy enough getting to his father’s office, Arthur has been there so many times, he could walk the corridors with his eyes shut.

Reaching the fifth floor on which his father’s office is held, Arthur is greeted by Elyan. The guard a familiar face, though the stress that mares his expression is not so.

“Sir.” He greets,offering a nod to Merlin as Arthur shakes his offered hand.

“Are they both inside?” Arthur cuts the small talk.

“Yes. She’s been waiting for you.”

“Good, because I’m here to talk to her.”

“Sir! I really must protest.” There’s a note of panic in Elyan’s voice, he takes a step to the side, putting himself in the centre of the corridor.

“I perfectly aware of the risks, all I ask is that you don't try and stop me.” Arthur locks eyes with Elyan, impressing on him the seriousness of his statement.

Their staring contest lasts but a few seconds but as they break the connection Elyan steps back.

“Thank you.”

Both him and Merlin cut to the door, and for once in his life Arthur actually wishes there were a window, just so he could prepare himself better for what he would find inside.

Merlin nudges his shoulder as they pause outside, the action helping Arthur find the strength he needs to knock.

It only takes a few seconds to get a response, but to Arthur it feels like a lifetime.

“What is it?” A stifled gasp from besides him confirms Merlin’s theory that the perpetrator is none other than Morgause.

“I’m Arthur Pendragon. I believe you asked to see me?”

There’s a beat, and then the sound of a lock turning, before the door clicks open.

No one pokes their head through the gap, and the inside is bathed in darkness, so sharing a look with Merlin, Arthur presses the flat of his hand against the painted surface, and pushes.

The moment the door is open wide enough to fit a person through, Arthur feels a tug, just before his body is propelled forwards, Merlin grabbing onto the back of his jacket not a moment too soon, to be pulled inside also, as the door slams shut behind them.

Complete darkness falls, and the pair as left pressed next to each other, eyes roving.

“I should have known you would come too, traitor.” There’s a sparkle and then a light bursts into life. 

It illuminates his father, bound to a chair and gagged for silence, along with a blonde haired woman. It doesn’t take a genius to work out that said women is Morgause, and he feels Merlin press closer to him as her eyes land on him.

“I’ve come to ask you to let my father go.”

“Oh you have, have you?” She sneers the words, her nose wrinkling. “I don’t think so.”

With almost no warning sher throws her hand out, gold in her eyes.

Arthur flinches, his eyes closing as he prepares of a blow but it never comes. Instead he hears a cry.

Eyes flying open he is met with Merlin’s back, the brunette, suspected not half a foot off the floor, his hands clawing at his neck, though Arthur can see nothing visible there.

“Merlin!” Arthur throws his arms around Merlin, and tries to tug him back down to the ground. But alas he fails.

“I hadn’t realised how close you two had grown.” Morgause says, stepping forwards so she’s standing in front of his father, blocking him with her shadow. “It shall give me great pleasure seeing your pain as I rip his life away, but don’t worry it will only be for a moment before you get to join him.”

A growl bubbles up in Arthur’s chest, and he renews his efforts to free Merlin.

Just as Arthur thinks all is lost, Morgause is thrown across the room, her body striking the wall behind her hard.

Merlin drops not a second later, freed from whatever spell kept him trapped.

“I will not let you hurt, Arthur.” Merlin's voice sounds breathy.

Morgause staggers back to her feet, glaring at them from across the room, before she fires another spell.

This one manifests as a curl of flame, hurtling towards them. Only to be stopped by the golden shimmer of a shield which Merlin wills into existence.

Arthur shades his eyes with his arm, squinting through the light and the heat.

Ice shards follow the fire, impacting against Merlin's defences with near deafening cracks, and causing Merlin to flinch as if he can feel each one as it makes contact.

He knows Merlin can’t hold out forever, though he obviously has power, he does not have the training which Morgause does to allowing him to direct said, power.

And as a third barrage is sent flying, Arthur knows they have to do something.

“I know you don’t want to hurt people Merlin, but you can’t hold out against her, you have to return fire.”

Merlin’s eyes slid in his direction, he does not say anything, but Arthur can tell the moment he makes his decision, the way his lips purse just so, and a furrow appears between his brows.

Concentrating as hard as he is on Merlin, Arthur almost misses the spell.

It’s a rope of light. Not unlike the one which he had used on Arthur himself. Though this time, Merlin clearly has no mind to care about strong the spell is, as it catches Morgause’s arm, using the contact as an anchor point to snake around her.

Everywhere it touches, skin is left pink and inflamed, the light carrying it’s own power to burn.

The trap is almost complete, and Arthur feels a hint of triumph. Until suddenly Morgause casts another spell, though this time the target is not longer Merlin.

A dagger formed of what appears to be green crystal appears at Uther’s throat, less than an inch away from slicing skin.

“Let me go or he dies with me.”

Arthur feels as Merlin tenses besides him, his own thoughts grounding to a halt.

Turning, Arthur examines Merlin’s face trying to determine what he’s thinking, but he can read nothing.

Faced with this choice himself Arthur cannot say which he would choose, for while he loves his father, he knows if he gives Morgause the opportunity, she will simply kill them all regardless of a deal struck now. But at the same time, he does not know if Merlin’s magic can act faster than her’s and if they do not let her go there will not even be the option to defend themselves.

The choice is not his however, and without a word Merlin’s shoulders sag, his shield dropping, the rope surrounding Morgause dissipates.

A cruel smile overtakes Morgause’s features, and the next thing Arthur knows is something shooting past his ear, followed by a dull thunk.

Arthur spins, eyes landing on Merlin who’s crumpled against the back walk, Morgause’s dagger embedded in his side.

The intensity of the anger that floods Arthur's senses is like nothing he has ever felt. 

Blood surging in his ears, Arthur's vision narrows until the only thing he’s aware of is Merlin's too still form. 

In front of him Morgause looks satisfied wearing an almost triumphant expression, lips curled upwards at the edges, blue eyes practically glowing with a supernatural light in the shadows that served only to highlight the cruelty they contain. 

Without a thought Arthur reaches into his coat, which in all the chaos had lain undisturbed on the floor, easily finding what he’s looking for and pulling it free.

A tremble spreads through him and his fingers tighten their hold around the hilt of the sword, thumb rubbing against it, following the line embossed into it. His blood sings in his veins, resonating somehow with the innate magic in the sword. 

“A sword, really? Against magic?” A hysterical laugh spews forth from Morgause, and it’s all the opportunity Arthur needs.

He’s across the room in what feels like a split second, sending Morgause crashing to the floor.

 

He levels the blade with Morgause’s throat, pressing the tip into her skin until he draws a bead of blood.

“For the kidnapping of my father, and for the m-” He had to swallow past a lump in his throat, “ and for the murder of Merlin, I sentence you too death.”

He pushes the sword forwards, his eyes closing as blood flecks at Morgause’s lips, her eyes dimming before her body goes slack.

In an instant Arthur’s at Merlin’s side, sword clattering to the ground noisily behind him, though he pays it no mind.

“Merlin.” The name is not but a whisper on his lips, his hand reaching out to stroke on still cheek. His eyes a glues to the dagger where it sticks upright in Merlin’s body. “I’m sorry.”

Water blurs his vision, and he has to duck his head, an unrestrained sob escaping him.

Somehow Uther has managed to free himself from the gag, his voice cutting through Arthur’s thoughts.

“His death shall be honoured, with the pardoning of all those that practice magic, and the repealment of our laws banning it’s use.”

So shocked is Arthur to hear those words from Uther’s lips that he almost misses the twitch of Merlin’s eyelashes. As it is his head snaps around, hands flitting over Merlin’s form, before he presses two fingers firmly to under Merlin’s jaw.

He listens, wishing with all his heart and mind to feel something, not even noticing when his eyes drop closed.

It takes a long time, but he feels something, a pulse. It’s a strong as a new born humming bird, but it’s there no the less.

No knowing what to do, Arthur reaches towards the dagger. In normal circumstances one should always leave the object in place to minimise blood loss. 

But this is different, dark magic can surely only make Merlin worse, and he’s barely clinging to life as he is.

Resolved, Arthur wraps his fingers around the weapon, taking a couple of deep breaths to steady himself. He need to do this in one go.

The noise as it comes free has him cringing, but looking down instead of finding blood pouring from the now gaping wound what he sees instead stops his breath.

Gold is pooling in the opening in Merlin’s side, growing stronger as it spreads, until Arthur can no longer look without blinding himself.

He doesn’t know what to think until a gasp.

Merlin jerks under his hand, arms flailing.

“Arthur!”

Both of Merlin’s eyes shoot open, and he tried to rise to his feet.

“Woah, shh. Merlin.” Arthur presses Merlin carefully back to the ground. “I’m alright. I’m alright.” Merlin's arms grasp at his clothes tugging and fisting into the fabric

Merlin blinks slowly, mind working to catch up with everything.

“Arthur?” He sounds small, like a child.

“I’m here. We’re both safe.” With that Arthur leans forwards pressing a kiss to Merlin's forehead, and closing his eyes.


End file.
